Family III: Grace
by Lady Amarra
Summary: Sesshomarou struggles with the truth about his love and the consequence of destiny...FINISHED


**Notes: **You should read "Human puppet" and "Mirror to my soul" to understand  
what is going on in this way, also to understand the style of writing or rather the mind behind  
my version of Sesshomarou. But you pretty much can read this one alone too, just go to the  
two stories anyway and tell me what you think. Yoko means "Sun child" by the way.

Oh and feedback is welcome.

**Disclimer**Nothing is mine, no money made.

**Grace**

He sits and he wonders.

Wonders how his father could ever do this; die for something like this.

It is gurgling and babbling, creating strange cooing noises in the back of its throat, disgusting  
and fascinating him at the same time.

He would call it a wailing and crying offence to his fine senses, an act of total disrespect. And  
disrespecting the Lord was a crime punishable by death. Oh yes, if one of his minions would  
have shown so unbearable much emotion face of him, he Sesshomarou, would kill him slowly  
and very, very painfully for their dishonour of his house and name.

He raises his hand and traces a thin bluish line, almost invisible below the red puffy skin and  
it shivers in reaction, dimming the sounds out into a broken whimper. It's reacting to his  
touch, looking up at him with big eyes in silence. The orbs are dark and golden, sparkling  
with a strange fire warmer as the sun, familiar and still unknown to the Lord of the western lands.

'_So warm and shivering at the same time_..' He thinks and pulls his hand back as if burned by  
the fire held in those eyes.

He ponders from where he knows this strange kind of light; and why he, the mighty Lord  
found it so intriguing to look at it and touch it to begin with.

'_It is so weak, useless, nameless, worthless…_' He counts off and his senses tell him that the  
best option would be to kill it by throwing it into one of the icy lakes outside. It was winter  
after all and no being as weak and worthless as this would survive even one hour unattended  
in the falling snow. '_Dirty, helpless… damned to die, not even born one hour_…'

But he can't.

Those silvery hair - sticky with blood and slime - the pale skin, bright red face the bulky head  
and short body, those hands balled to tiny fists… ugly. No grace in the movements, unable to  
nourish or protect itself, powerless and useless – no demon would think this being worth to  
even survive the next hour. He could snap that tiny neck with only one hand, not even using  
all fingers and would laugh about the lifeless form below him, so fragile and human.

A weak, honourless, dirty creature.

Still he lays his hand back on the small creature, feeling the heart beat and the lungs fill with  
air in an eternal struggle for survival. It makes him curious as to why it even tries to do so –  
why it wants to start this struggle which would last a whole existence. Sure, it was probably  
too stupid, or innocent to know what it will be in this cold world.

He raises his head and looks out, through the thin curtain which parts his room from the  
snowy court outside; many of his generals and underlings are out there, waiting to strip him of  
name, honour and rank on the first sign of weakness on his side. Waiting for him to appear  
and give command or repeat failures of his father – and frankly he knows he really should kill  
this being off- for the world it will be born in is that of a demon and not of a human, or even  
halfbreed for that matter.

But he does not.

He can't.

He returns his eyes to the small being before him, meeting this fire again in its own eyes and  
it warms his heart like only one other creature ever could.

It would be a hard struggle for it to survive, grow, develop and mature.

Fight.

But he would be there and take care of it.

So he looks down to the child again and she looks back up at him with this eyes full of fire,  
filling him with that warmth again that he first saw with his little Rin years back.

This infant will survive.

He would make sure of it.

Carefully and unused to the degree of fragility he lifts the being on his arm, carefully wraps  
his tail around it to give it a warm bed and raises as perfectly and gracefully as he always did.

His steps are short and his underlings bow the moment he moves the curtain; yet again his  
eyes wander among those men before him and he narrows them with disgust. He can sense  
their hate and fury, their distrust and disgust… and he did not care.

"My lord…" One of his generals dares to begin and steps forward. "I assembled someone to  
dispose of it…" The green haired man raises his eyes and looks at the squealing child on his  
lord's arms with a seething sound of disgust.

The child does not shiver, does not even flinch or announce the presence of the man, just  
stares the demon down and he barely covers his rage at this.

Sesshomarou sees his daughter, strong and powerful enough to startle a grown up demon with  
only those big eyes of her, not even one hour old and a smile tugs on his lips.

This truly was his daughter.

He dog ears twitch lightly from the unknown feeling of snow connecting with the sensitive fur  
and he moves his tail lightly to cover her up more.

He doesn't meet the eyes of his general, because a Father knows how to dispose of his  
problems himself, beginning with severing the head of the man's shoulder with his mighty  
sword.

His men do not flinch or shiver sprinkled in their General's blood, but he can smell fear now  
as does his daughter. The little being sneezes and gurgles, tiny hands held out for her father.

His underlings know he would kill them if he saw it fitting and he would make sure they  
would be always remembered on what happens if there was someone going against him and  
his family. He wasn't making his father's failures, he wasn't repeating a destiny - he was  
making his own.

"This is my daughter…" He stats emotionless but clear, raising his sword out. The energy  
crackles around the blade and melts the snow flakes before they even touch it. "You will call  
her by the name Yoko… daughter of Sesshomarou Lord of the west…"

His minions fall to their knees, bow for the new member of the family of their master. Bow  
their heads and look down at the dead and fallen body of the General. His daughter squeals  
and yawns lightly, he puts his sword back into his belt and moves his tail to wrap her up  
tighter.

"Now leave…" He spits. "And get rid of this stinking thing…"

Sesshomarou turns his back to his minions, ignoring them as they drag the body away and  
returns back into the warmth of his private chambers, returning his daughter to her mother.

He was not repeating failures.

Because it was no failure to love someone like this.

Never.


End file.
